


A (Paintball) Gun in Your Pocket

by mattressesflollop



Series: Paintball 'verse [1]
Category: You Me and the Apocalypse
Genre: Gen, Getting Together, Laser Tag, M/M, The love of paintball, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattressesflollop/pseuds/mattressesflollop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Scotty waged an epic game of paintball to win the attention of Arnold Gaines, which he probably had already. (Spoilers up to 1.03)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A (Paintball) Gun in Your Pocket

**Author's Note:**

> This became a story of how Scotty and Arnold's relationship could have started, even though it started because I wanted to explore how Rhonda came to have a certain skill that we see in the last episode, and a backstory of the twins growing up. (These will both be codas to this series.)
> 
> It's highly unlikely that this is how Scotty met Gaines, but I believe 100% that there was much UST and a bit of pining from both men. 
> 
> I'm using a lot of Americanisms (because they're American), even though this hasn't even aired on NBC yet. Hello to any readers from anywhere other than America! Here's an abbreviation guide for a few things that come up:  
> DoD = Department of Defense  
> SSG = Special Situations Group (where Scotty works)  
> bioE = bioengineering

Scotty had decided that if (when) he told Rhonda about how he had actually gotten Arnie interested in seeing him, the entire story would have to start with paintball. Or perhaps, even further back, to his and Rhonda's traditional weekly laser tag games as teenagers. That was how they'd both developed a knack for quick shooting and good aim, which turned out to be a transferable skill when Rajesh had first introduced them to paintball.

The first time that Rajesh had taken them on their first paintball excursion, Spike was away at science camp – and more excited about it than even Scotty and Rhonda were for him. This turned out to be a wise bit of planning on Rajesh's part, because, as Scotty quickly learned, paintballs were _painful_.

It also didn't help that his sister had teamed up with her boyfriend, and with her reckless stunts and sharp aim, and his speed as a lunatic who ran marathons for fun, it was only a strategic rock on higher ground that saved Scotty from becoming a walking bruise.

When they were on the same team, though, Scotty was just as capable – the heft of the paintball gun and equipment of the game were different from laser tag, but the fundamentals were there. He and Rajesh had come up victorious at Rajesh's bachelor party paintball game, and one of Rajesh's friends had been _very_ appreciative of Scotty's aptitude for nailing the others with paint.

—

In the months leading up to the epic Department of Defense Paintball Mixer, though, Scotty actually hadn't had the time to make the regular games with Rhonda and Rajesh. Work wasn't so much an excuse to Rhonda, but more like a way of life. There was just so _much_ to wrap his mind around at the Special Situations Group. Scotty had understood, in an abstract way, the demands of the job – after all, he'd spent the past thirteen years living and breathing his research, and knew how complex it was when you compounded astrophysics with geology and ecology and anything remotely related to keeping things alive on Earth.

In fact, Scotty didn't meet General Arnold Gaines until two months into his start at SSG. That Tuesday, Scotty had his first presentation for the core extinction-level group – which was just himself and his supervisor, Dr. Jacob Mueller, and whoever else in the office felt like starting their morning off with a strong cup of coffee and some doom and paranoia.

"Constant vigilance!" Dr. Mueller tended to reply whenever someone tried to excuse themselves from a conversation with his latest havoc-related research. It sounded like the scientist had been saying that his entire life, although Scotty was fairly sure that the Harry Potter books had only been around for less than a decade.

This morning, Scotty had made sure to arrive early, so he could set up the projector and review his notes one more time. Despite Dr. Mueller's relaxed expectations - the older scientist was one year from retirement and he'd hired Scotty as his clear protégé - Scotty did honestly want to make a good start for what would be a career-long series of presentations.

He was fumbling with his VGA cable when someone from the corner of the table cleared his throat.

Scotty's head snapped up, and he gaped at the man. "Oh, hi! Hello, I'm just... getting set up." He held the knotted cable up sheepishly.

The man – soldier – holy crap, how many ribbons on his uniform were there? – looked Scotty over before nodding and turning back to the newspapers in front of him. "Carry on then."

"T-Thanks," Scotty replied, as he continued to stare at the other man. The sheer number of ribbons on his uniform, and the military bearing that screamed career soldier – Scotty was confused what the guy was doing in this room.

"Are you here for a meeting?" Scotty finally asked. "Because this is the extinction-level intro briefing, so I'm not sure if this is the right—"

"No," the other man stated calmly. "I'm in the right room." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Uh, okay," Scotty said, lamely, as he felt an embarrassed flush spreading on his face. He ducked his head, intent on focusing back on untangling the damn cable, and missed the amused smirk from the other man.

—

As the final slide clicked to black, Scotty breathed a quiet sigh of relief and sent a mental high-five to his sister. The presentation had gone well. Even better, he was impressed and rather flattered by the questions and depth of knowledge that the other man – General Gaines, as Dr. Mueller had introduced – had shown in the discussion following his presentation.

"It seems like we're continuing in a good direction," Gaines had said to Dr. Mueller, as Scotty was packing up. "I'm impressed."

"You do know I'm retiring, not dying yet," the scientist had said, wryly. "Scotty has many unique ideas, and I will be happy to continue to advise him if needed."

"Of course," Gaines replied. "I just make sure to note competency when I see it. It's getting to be a rare sight."

Scotty had to bite down on his cheek to hide his toothy smile, the straightening of his shoulders the only outward sign of the flush of pleasure he felt from any sort of praise. Mueller just rolled his eyes, mock-groaning at the other man's quip.

Gaines turned to face Scotty – and wow, he'd seemed taller when sitting, and now, knowing that all of the man's intensity was contained in this compact body… Scotty felt his mouth dry slightly, and he had to use both hands to hide the slight tremor when he shook hands with the general.

Gaines only nodded at Scotty, and shook his hand firmly. "Until next month." 

Thirty seconds later, Scotty was back at his desk and leaning over to his officemate, Alva. "So what's the deal with General Gaines?"

The deal, apparently, was that if (when) anything went FUBAR, Gaines was the man to go to. The Special Situations Group was an independent offspring of some now-inactive Department of Defense research groups. Due to the way that various departments were grouped under the DoD, the SSG fell neatly alongside the groups under Gaines' control.

Intelligent, intense, military, and very much a man in control. Scotty sighed, slumping on his desk. He wasn't going to deny it. The man was hot.

Apparently he was also very busy – Scotty wasn't able to catch even a glimpse of Gaines until they met again in the presentation room, for Scotty's updates. He was all the right sorts of attentive during the meetings, and some of his questions and points made Scotty want to invite him home for some very lengthy discussions, followed by a night cap, and maybe more talk in bed. Post-coital.

But the general was a consummate professional, and seemed to prefer work-related talk over small talk to the point that Scotty was pretty sure that the man could stare down the metaphysical concept of small talk itself.

Sadly, Scotty could understand that preference – work at SSG was all-consuming enough; he couldn't begin to fathom everything that Gaines was responsible for.

Fortunately, Human Resources seemed to care about the sanity and well-being of its personnel. That was clearly why everyone from the SSG and its associated departments had been invited to a mixer event to experience the health and wellness benefits of physical activity, and were now standing in an outdoor paintball field, clutching their equipment.

As the only members of the SSG with previous paintball experience, Scotty and Barnes, the deputy direction of the Group, had been designated to come up with their department's strategy.

"We deal with surprise stuff like this for a living!" Barnes had rallied their coworkers around. "So keep your cool, find a good spot that has some cover and gives you a good range."

"What then?" Alva asked, checking her headset for any feedback.  

"Well, then you shoot," Barnes grinned. "If you've got good aim, great. If not, then it's all about quantity, guys!"

Sad as it was, Scotty thought that quantity was probably their group's best bet. Although for him, he felt he actually knew what he was doing for the first time in months; laser tag and paintball were as familiar as sketching the trajectory of a meteor. While his teammates were some of the brightest minds he'd ever worked with, being able to develop and puzzle through multilevel simulations did not mean that you could aim a paintball and hit a moving target. Especially when said target was also aiming at you.

As he loaded his first round of paintballs, Scotty followed some of his teammates' worried looks, towards a few of the groups near them. His eyes widened. Those groups were definitely some of the DoD's military men, judging by the way they stood and held their paintball guns. Some of them had come in their uniforms, and he was surprised to see the sheer number of ribbons on some of the men and women.

And – he really should have been expecting this – there was Gaines, his intense gaze fixed on the battle plan he was sketching in the dirt for his group.

Not fair.

Gaines paused at the end of his orders, his gaze meeting each of his teammates before he noticed Scotty. He turned his head slightly to meet Scotty's eyes, one eyebrow raised.

Looking that intense? With that kind of peripheral vision? Definitely not fair.

"Scotty? Anything else from your experience?"

He gulped, turning back to Barnes. "Um, yeah. No. Yeah, you definitely want more paintballs out there than in your gun." He pushed his glasses more securely on his face. "Also, movement is good. In this game, any spot you find, no matter how good, can still be surrounded. So, find one for cover, regroup, fire a couple of shots, but definitely don't let too many people get too close."

Barnes clapped a hand on Scotty's shoulder. "Right! Let's get moving! Good luck team!"

Scotty said a silent prayer for his scientists-in-arms as everyone grinned at each other before moving off in smaller groups in search of a secure spot to start. Behind him, he heard the quiet order from Gaines, and turned to see the man's teammates form their battle groups.

They moved quickly and confidently, and Scotty couldn't hold back the wide curve of his excited smile. He hadn't had a challenge since facing off against Rhonda and Rajesh.

The headset in his helmet crackled, before the voice of one of the HR guys came on. "Alright, hope everyone's in position. Game start!"

At once, Scotty heard the whizz of a paintball fly past him, and he planted one foot firmly on the ground, pivoting to fire off three pellets in the direction of the shot. He heard someone yell out a muffled curse, and laughed, as his mind and body synced up and told him to run, run, run.

By the time his victim's teammates had reacted to target him, Scotty was already halfway up the grassy hill, Barnes' "awesome shot!" coming across clear on his headset.

—

It quickly became clear how HR had hoped this paintball game would be an interdepartmental mixer. Apparently the comms system of the headsets were completely open – everyone could hear everyone else, regardless of what group you were in.

On the other hand, the chaos that it caused in the first twenty minutes – teammates shouting strategies and for help and victory – had made easy targets out of the easily flustered and disoriented players.

Scotty hit another player whom he'd been tailing and who had finally been a bit too specific about her location ('I need backup – no, near the brown rocks, not the gray ones!'). He shrugged in apology as the player dumped her remaining paintballs down in frustration.

"Elise from DoD, bioE," she sighed into her headset, "I'm down. Points to –" she paused, looking expectantly at Scotty.

"Scotty, SSG," he said, waving hello to her. It felt pretty awkward, but he wasn't sure.

Elise quirked a smile at him. "Points to Scotty, SSG."

Scotty's headset crackled from the loud whoops and cheers from his team.

"Good luck," Elise said, after removing her helmet. "I think you're few of the non-DoDs left."

She paused, fixing Scotty with a serious look. "It's impressive, so, seriously. Good luck."

—

Scotty chose his next station in a shaded, tight copse of trees. While the DoD soldiers had the advantage of years of training to adapt to new places quickly, Scotty figured that his one strength at this stage was how familiar he was with playing the game in dark areas (thank you, laser tag). The group of trees covered a reasonable amount of area: enough to entice someone to take shelter here, and to give Scotty some room to hide in waiting and move to fire.

As Scotty waited, the comms from the headset continued. He counted as Alva – his last SSG team member – announced she was out, hit by Jerry from Archives. The number of players from departments other than Defense continued to drop, interspersed with some of the DoD soldiers – it turned out they were from the Forces division.

As the number decreased, Scotty was able to start noticing some of the key players, whose voices came up often over the headset.

"Al, Geosciences,"

"Milton, Forces,"

"Whitney, Aero,"

"Charlie, Forces,"

And, more frequently and unsurprisingly,

"Gaines, Forces."

From the surprised yells from Gaines' targets, and praise after being hit, Scotty had no clue how Gaines was ambushing the other players. It sounded like no one had noticed him approaching – most of his hits were relatively close range it seemed.

A rustle sounded from Scotty's left, and he fired.

"Damn! Keynes from Forces. I'm out."

When Scotty saw the ribbons on the man's uniform – he'd taken out a captain oh god – his mind blanked for a second. Keynes stared pointedly at Scotty, who cleared throat. "Sc – Scotty, SSG."

After the boisterous shouting of everyone from SSG, back at the main area listening in on the game, Scotty heard a soft laugh across the comms. "Scotty from SSG. It's been a while. I thought you were out."

He knew that steady voice well enough. Gaines.

"Not out, just making plans. Good to know you can be fooled," Scotty replied, trying to sound as calm and in control, before his words really registered and he realized that he wasn't about to miraculously become the king of witty banter during this paintball game. Or any.

He flushed red, and the silence from his headset only made his blush deepen.

 _Focus_ , he thought, moving a few feet away to take up a new vantage point. There were still other players to deal with.

And maybe if he succeeded, he'd face off against Gaines. That was plenty of time to come up with some good zingers.

—

Scotty's lurk-in-the-shadows strategy worked for a few more of the remaining players, although one of them from Forces had exercised his team mentality by announcing his location over the comms. Scotty sprinted out of the shade of the trees, wildly scanning for close threats as he made the split-second decision about where to head next.

He sprawled down behind a group of empty oil barrels, firing off a frantic and unnecessary number of paintballs at an approaching figure, and rolling out of the way of the incoming retaliation. He'd hit first, though.

"Al, Geosciences," the other player said.

"Scotty, SSG," Scotty dutifully replied.

"Well, Scotty, you are one of seven still in play. I advise you make sure your plans hold up."

The amusement was clear in Gaines' voice, and Scotty silently groaned.

—

There were only four of them left. Gaines, Milton, and Charlie from Forces, and Scotty, who thought that he should have been feeling pretty pleased with his performance by now, if he wasn't overwhelmed with the terror and paranoia of any animal that had realized the constant presence of two predators stalking it.

 _Dear Rhonda_ , he thought, a bit hysteric, as he leaned against one of the metal walls in the open field to catch his breath. _DC is fucking beautiful when you're not being stalked by trained soldiers armed with paintballs_.

"Scotty."

He snapped his head up, eyes widening. The voice had come from his headset, but he'd also heard the rich tone as the sound was carried across the field to him. Gaines was close behind him.

And, given that he was the last non-Forces member left, and victory went to the last group standing rather than the last man, Scotty was sure that the other two were in position to surround him.

"I think you know what's going to happen next," Gaines continued, as he approached. "I'm sure you've thought of all the reasonable possibilities, run them through all of your simulations. Want to tell me how this ends?"

Scotty took a deep breath, and ran his hand through his hair. It really wasn't fair, he thought, how sultry the man could sound when he was threatening him with paintball-death.

Or maybe it wasn't fair how easy it was for Scotty to react to intense, uniformed men, who were more than capable of taking control.

And giving control, when Scotty thought back to Gaines' discussions during his presentations. And who were intelligent, and could come up with cool phrases effortlessly off the cuff.  

Okay, so maybe it just wasn't fair that all of those qualities were packaged in a single, attractive man. Or maybe it wasn't fair that said man existed, and was Gaines, who Scotty had no clue how to even start a meaningful conversation with.

There was movement that Scotty suddenly noticed from the corners of his eyes. Damn – he was surrounded.

"Scotty?" The amused tone in Gaines' voice finally spurred Scotty to action.

"Wait! I'm coming out!" he called, raising his paintball gun above the metal barrier between them. "Look." He dropped the gun onto the ground, and peered around the corner.

Gaines was looking surprised at him, although he made no move to lower his gun. "Well," he said, dryly, as Scotty slowly scooted around the wall, "I wasn't expecting that."

Scotty saw Milton take aim on his left, and knew: _now_.

"Expect the unexpected," he quipped, and in one breath, he whipped out the paintball gun he had tucked behind him, and with the second breath, he aimed and fired.

With the next breath, Milton and Charlie's paintballs hit him from both sides.

Victorious cheers sounded from both sides, as the two Forces men headed back to base to celebrate, but Scotty was too busy laughing at the sight of Gaines, staring shocked at the purple paint splatter across the front of his protective gear.

Gaines looked up as Scotty got his laughter under control and pulled his helmet off to push his glasses askew as he wiped the tears from his eyes. Scotty felt his breath freeze in his throat at the sight of Gaines, with his amused, impressed smile and his dark eyes as they scanned appreciatively over Scotty's sweat-slicked curls before meeting his eyes.

"Gaines, Forces," the man said into his headset. "I'm down. Points to Scotty, SSG." He pulled off his helmet amidst the incredulous reactions from the players listening to the game, clicking it off and dropping it to the ground before he stalked towards Scotty.

Standing a mere few feet from him, Gaines inclined his head towards Scotty's helmet in his hands. "Oh, uh," Scotty shakily said into his own headset: "Scotty, SSG. I'm down. Points to Milton and Charlie, Forces. I think that's game over."

"It most certainly is," Gaines said, brushing his palms over Scotty's hands to pluck the helmet from his hands. He flipped the headset off.

They stood there, still breathing heavily from the exertion of the game – and something more, Scotty hoped, as he reddened with each passing second that Gaines made no intention to move away.

Finally, Gaines quirked his lips into a smile. "Did you quote Oscar Wilde to me?"

"Wha-?"

"'Expect the unexpected.'"

"Oh, I didn't know he said it too. I was thinking of Heraclitus." Scotty let out a soft laugh. "You can quote Oscar Wilde?"

"I do enjoy a number of things about the man," Gaines replied. He stared at Scotty, raising his eyebrows as if expecting Scotty to react to his cue.

"Um, yeah, he's pretty great. I really liked his story about—" and then Scotty stopped as Gaines' lips turned down into a frown, and the man started to move away.

"I mean," Scotty moved forward to hold onto Gaines' – firm, oh god – forearms. "I mean, I'd love to hear more about him. Wilde. And, uh, what you like about him, and other things. That you like." He smiled, embarrassed. "Over dinner? Or coffee, because you must be really busy, and—"

"Dinner works," Gaines interrupted, stepping closer to look – slightly up – at Scotty. Scotty's breath hitched with the realization that he was slightly taller than Gaines. Arnold? Could you call a General by their first name, if you were going out to dinner with them? Definitely if you were going to then engage in a session of heavy _celebrating_ at least, if Scotty had any say, right?  

As it turned out, he was definitely right.

END

——

End Notes: 

There's a fun personality comparison between who Gaines and Scotty attribute the "expect the unexpected" quote from: 

  * Heraclitus (aka the "weeping philosopher"): "If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it; for it is hard to be sought out, and difficult." 
  * Oscar Wilde: "To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect."



([source](http://www.answers.com/Q/Who_is_the_origin_of_the_quote_Expect_the_unexpected))

Apart from the DoD and SSG, all of the other departments are made up on the fly (by me, not the YMaTA writers). I was modeling Forces off of Special Forces, but that probably would have made the fight (even more) unfair, ha. 

This was sadly unbeta-ed, so if you spot anything, I'd greatly appreciate if you let me know. 

Thanks for reading, and here's to more Artty as we go on!


End file.
